How about Vera? said Sonya.
Vera Samsonova?
You cant say shes not educated. She studied at St Petersburg. And she passed her exams first time! added Sonya maliciously.
Yes, but would she come? asked Igor, affecting nonchalance. Shes always seemed to me
Ill ask her, said Sonya.
And had.
She would be there this evening. Dmitri had no great hopes. He had seen her from a distance. Tall. And thin. Flat as a board. Straight up, straight down. Front and back. Bright, no doubt. No one who had taken the Advanced Womens Courses in the Faculty of Natural History could be a fool. They had been about the only route by which women could qualify to be a medical doctor. You had had to be pretty bright to get in, and very bright to stay on, because the professors had deliberately made it hard to. There had been a lot of hostility towards the course, not just from the medical profession but from the university. And from the Government. Theyd taken the first chance they could to close the courses down, a casualty, like so many others, of the backlash against reform following the assassination of Tsar Alexander.
He had met some of the women once, although the course itself had been closed by the time he got there. Very determined, the women had seemed. In fact, that was the trouble. Too determined. They seemed to go through life with clenched teeth.
From what hed heard, Vera Samsonova was a bit like that. Spiky. No soft edges. All the same, he had been mildly intrigued at the prospect of meeting her.
And now, just as he was putting on his hat and coat, this bloody fool of a judge wanted to see him!
There are things, said the senior judge severely, that a young lady of good family should not see. And the Court House yard is one of them!
She wanted to see it! protested Dmitri. She was going there anyway.
Could you not have diverted her?
I tried, but she insisted.
You should have tried harder.
She wanted a breath of air!
But why go to the back yard for it? Why couldnt you take her out the front? The park the flowers
There arent any flowers yet. Theyve only just cleared the snow away.
The air is wholesome at least, said the judge, irritated, and you couldnt say that was true of the yard.
She wanted to go there!
I find that hard to believe. Would any respectable young woman want to go there, knowing what she might see? No, said the judge warmly, what she wanted was just a place where she could get some fresh air. You chose to take her to the back yard and therefore it is in considerable measure your fault.
Fault! She asked me to show her the way and I showed her!
She placed herself under your protection.
Nonsense! All she did was ask
A young woman? said the judge incredulously. Distressed? Sees what she takes to be a respectable young man? An official of the Court, no less? Asks quite properly for assistance? If that is not placing herself under your protection, Id like to know what is!
Dmitri counted to five before replying and then, as that did not seem to be working, to ten.
I could quite reasonably have restricted myself to pointing out the way, he said at last. In fact, I chose
Ah! said the judge triumphantly. Chose!
To walk along the corridor with her. No question of legal responsibility arises.
Her father, said the judge grimly, is a friend of the Governor. He moves in high circles in St Petersburg. An intimate of Prince Dolgorukov. Through him he has access to the Tsar. And you think no question of responsibility will arise?
Oh ho, thought Dmitri. So thats the way the winds blowing!
I refuse to admit any personal responsibility in the matter, he said quickly.
Much good that will do you! said the judge cuttingly. Much good, he added gloomily, it will do any of us.
Oh, come sir! said Dmitri. Things are not as bad as all that! There is probably some quite simple explanation for the girls disappearance. Met a friend, perhaps, and gone off for a walk
In the dark? asked the judge, looking out of the window. Shed have been back by now. No, he said, shaking his head, weve tried all that. Checked on her friends, the shops, her hairdresser
A friend she wishes to keep secret, perhaps?
A male friend, you mean?
Well
No question of that. Her parents are adamant.
They would be, said Dmitri.
The judge looked at him.
You think its a possibility?
A far likelier possibility than that its anything to do with the back yard.
You think so?
Sure of it. How could there be?
Well, of course youre right. A young lady of respectable family how could there be? You must be right.
Turned round the moment she took a look at it, I would have thought. Walked straight back along the corridor.
You think so? But then
There will be some simple explanation.
I hope youre right. Im sure youre right. The judge looked at his watch. Still time to get to Avdotia Vassilevnas for the main course. Even the fish, perhaps. He snapped it shut.
Ill leave it to you, then.
Leave it?
As Examining Magistrate. Do keep me informed.
But I thought You said
Yes?
That I was party to the case. And therefore it would be improper for me to act as Examining Magistrate.
But you denied that you were party to the case. Didnt you? Im merely accepting your word. For the time being.
One way or another, thought Dmitri, the bastards always got you.
Well, Ill leave you to get on with it. While the scent is hot.
Dmitri made a last effort to retrieve his evening.
Arent we being premature, sir? I mean, is there a case? Surely its just a matter of continuing with the search? The police ?
Useless. That fool Novikov. No, Id prefer you to be involved right from the start. Someone bright, with a bit of energy, someone
Responsible?
Yes. Responsible. Thats the word.
Sitting alone in the little room the lawyers used as a workroom, Dmitri nursed his wrath. There was plenty of it to nurse; first, wrath against the judge, not just for landing Dmitri in it but also for the general things he stood for and Dmitri stood against: age, seniority, authority, power, privilege, the System; next, wrath against Kursk, which was such a hell of a place that no wonder everything went wrong in it; and, finally, against this silly girl who had got herself lost and mucked up Dmitris evening.
By this time on a normal day the Court House would have been empty. Lawyers, witnesses, defendants would have long departed. The caretakers would have retreated on to their ovens. Only at the back, perhaps, the last wagon would be squelching through the mud, trying to reach the firm crunch of the hard-packed snow outside.
Tonight there were lamps in all the rooms and people scurrying about everywhere. Novikov was searching the building for the fifth or perhaps sixth time. The dilemma before Dmitri was this: should he assume that Novikov was incapable of doing anything properly, and therefore make a search of the building himself? Or should he take for granted that the girl had left the building long before and was now happily chatting in some comfortable parlour with her girlfriends or, more likely, otherwise preoccupied in some comfortable bed with her boyfriend? The second was obviously the case. The trouble was that if by any unlikely chance it was the first, and the girl was lying stuffed in some corner somewhere, and was later discovered, then it would look bad. It would look bad for the Court House and, more to the point, since the judge had nailed him firmly with responsibility for the investigation, it would look bad for him, Dmitri.
Search, himself, it would have to be, and, no doubt, while doing it he could find himself a glass of tea in the caretakers room.
Novikov had had the idea before him. He looked up, glass in hand, as Dmitri entered.
Im making a personal search, he said, warming his backside against the fire. Youve got to do it yourself. You cant trust these buggers to do it properly.
How far have you got? asked Dmitri. Just here?
Novikov looked pained.
The whole of the ground floor, he said. Every nook, every cranny, every cupboard, behind every pipe, down every sewer. You need a wash-up after youve done that, I can tell you! Ever searched a sewer, Dmitri Alexandrovich?
Suits some people more than others, Dmitri said coldly. He wasnt going to be put down by the Chief of Police of a place like Kursk.
Novikov shrugged and put down his glass.
The top floor now! Would you care to accompany me? At least there wont be any sewers.
Dmitri was forced to admit, after half an hour had passed, that Novikov knew his job, or this part of it at least. It wasnt intelligence, Dmitri decided; it was cunning. Perhaps experience, too. Experience enough to know when a thing mattered and when it did not, cunning to be able to read the mind of the brutalized peasants who provided the bulk of the criminals in Kursk. Dmitri had no such cunning, he knew. He had never met a peasant until he came to Kursk, although they formed two-thirds of the population of Russia. Dmitri was a city-dweller through and through. And that, if he could manage it, was how he meant to stay. The important thing was not to get trapped in the provinces. That was where experience came in, both the judges kind of experience and Novikovs. The experience to know that this was a thing that people higher up would be interested in and take notice of, experience at covering your back. Dmitri was beginning to feel that he could have done with more experience of the latter sort.
A glass of tea, Dmitri Alexandrovich? suggested Novikov, when they had finished the floor.
Dmitri concurred silently. He had already made up his mind that he would not now search the ground floor himself. Such things, especially the sewers, were best left to the Novikovs.
What are you going to do now? he asked.
Novikov looked at his watch.
Nine oclock, he said. Nothing more tonight. Its too dark. Tomorrow well search the grounds. Then the park. First thing, though, as soon as its light, well have people go through the building again, before the courts open. We may have missed something, you never know. And you wouldnt want people to come in and find
Indeed not.
But, Novikov went on, I wont do it myself.
No?
Ill be in the back yard. I want to have a good look in the mud. Before the wagons start coming. Care to join me, Dmitri Alexandrovich? he asked maliciously.
Not at first light but at a decent hour, Dmitri called on the Semeonovs and was shown into the drawing room. A few moments later the Semeonovs joined him.
Dmitri Alexandrovich Kameron, he said bowing. Examining Magistrate. At your service.
He looks very young! said Olga Feodorovna, inspecting him critically.
Yes, he does, said her husband. I dont call that good enough! Is that the best they can do? he demanded, looking at Dmitri. A man like me deserves something better. Peter Ivanovich at least!
Peter Ivanovich is, indeed, occupying himself with the case, although, of course, formally it is the Examining Magistrate
Formally? said Semeonov. What do I care about formally? Dont come the petty bureaucrat with me, you young puppy! Whats your name? he demanded threateningly.
Kameron. As I have just told you, said Dmitri, seething.
Well, Mr Examining Magistrate Kameron, you can run back to the Court House and tell them I want to see somebody different on the case, someone a bit more senior! I call this an insult. I can see Im going to have to have a word with someone higher up, not just in Kursk, either. Prince Dolgorukov
Kameron? said his wife, Did you say Kameron?
I did.
That is not a Russian name.
My God! said Semeonov. Are they sending us foreigners now?
They are not, said Dmitri, stung. My family has been Russian for two hundred years. My great-great-grandfather served the Tsar
Kameron? interrupted Olga Feodorovna. What sort of name is that?
Scottish. My great-great-grandfather
Served the Tsar, you say? In what capacity? interrupted Semeonov.
He built the Tsarinas palace.
Yes, but what rank?
For his services he was admitted to the dvorianstvo.
Really? said Olga Feodorovna.
A rank which my family has been proud to retain! said Dmitri, fired up.
And would have been prouder still if anything, money for instance, had gone with it.
Well, now, look began Semeonov.
Dmitri Alexandrovich! said Olga Feodorovna, putting out her hand and smiling sweetly. How kind of you to call! Charmant! she said to her husband. But why havent you been to see us before? she said to Dmitri. My daughter would so like oh, my daughter! she cried, collapsing in tears.
Now, now, my dear
Madam! Madam! cried Dmitri, supporting her to a sofa. You must not give way! Dont assume the worst! Im sure shes all right.
You think so? whispered Olga Feodorovna, looking up at him through her tears.
I am sure! cried Dmitri, carried away.
And you will find her?
I will find her! I promise you!
You will? Oh, Dmitri Alexandrovich!
I will search the park myself.
Oh, Dmitri Alexandrovich! You will stay to lunch, wont you?
It would have been unsociable to refuse. And over lunch he learned some more about the strange girl who had sought his help in the Court House.
A sweet girl, charming. Dmitri could believe that. Tender, passionate. Good qualities, in Dmitris view, especially in women. Serious serious about what?
She used to read, said Olga Feodorovna.
And not your French romances, either! Or, at least, not just your French romances.
Real books! said Semeonov, nodding significantly. Thick ones!
On ?
Hospitals, said Semeonov. Children, said Olga Feodorovna. The poor.
Oh, yes, said Semeonov. The poor.
For some reason Dmitri began to feel depressed.
And church, said Olga Feodorovna. She used to go to church.
But stopped, said Semeonov.
Stopped?
A girlish whim! said Olga Feodorovna.
When was this?
About three months ago, said Semeonov.
I pleaded with her, said Olga Feodorovna. I asked her to think how it would look.
But she wouldnt be persuaded?
Well, said Olga Feodorovna, you know girls.
Any reason?
Doubts, said Semeonov.
Doubts? What sort of doubts? Religious ones?
The Semeonovs wouldnt say that.
She was having a difficult time, said Olga Feodorovna. You know; girls.